


His Favorite Person

by AceSparkleGirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Squip, Showers, Texting, Trans Michael Mell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceSparkleGirl/pseuds/AceSparkleGirl
Summary: On any typical day, Jeremy's entirely positive that Michael wouldn't be bothered by a morning phone call, or a text message reminding him that he'll see him in a bit, and to have a good day. On a typical day, however, Jeremy's not walking two streets over to Michael's house at seven in the morning.





	His Favorite Person

**Author's Note:**

> Is trans! Michael relevant to plot or mentioned at all? No. Is it important to know that trans! Michael is a god tier headcanon, and I can't have anyone thinking that Michael Mell, in the canon of this fic, is cis? Yes. Thank you for tuning in.

On any typical day, Jeremy's entirely positive that Michael wouldn't be bothered by a morning phone call, or a text message reminding him that he'll see him in a bit, and to have a good day. On a typical day, however, Jeremy's not walking two streets over to Michael's house at seven in the morning.

 

Jeremy had spent the night prior staring at the ceiling in his bed, eyes tracing between old glow-in-the-dark stars to try and form constellations to lull him to sleep, but sleep never came.

 

The sun had barely been up by the time that Jeremy pushed through his front door to leave his own house, and by the time he was halfway there, he was already regretting the fact that he'd made the decision not to change out of his pajamas despite the fact that January air in the ass crack of New Jersey can sting even on the best of days. It would seem that his day had started with mistakes, anyway, so what was the harm in just making more?

 

It wasn't until he was turning down Michael's street that he even thought to text him, completely barring the fact that he was well aware where the key was.

 

To: Player One

_‘on my way over. gonna let myself in. hope youre awake.’_

 

He scans over the text after it's sent before he sends another, lips pursed.

 

‘ _second thought you wanna greet me? im cold. spare your hoodie?’_

 

Good enough. He slows his pace a bit, rubbing a hand against his arm in order to warm it up from the friction before he feels the phone in his hand vibrate, and he glances down at the preview.

 

From: Player One

‘ _no prob bob. good morning. you know its saturday tho right lmao see you in a minute’_

 

The message is punctuated with a kiss emoji, and Jeremy snorts before he tucks the phone back into his pockets, alongside his hands, and there's only the slightest air of concern when he turns onto the street and sees Michael's house. There are a thousand memories of showing up to his door unannounced, but for some reason, Jeremy can't shake the feeling that today's visit is particularly unwanted.

 

When he finally approaches the front door, he's taken aback by the fact that it swings inward before he can even raise a fist to rap at the cold white surface. Looking up finds him face to face with his boyfriend, who's holding an armful of red fabric, grin spread across his lips for a fleeting moment. The grin fades, Jeremy suspects, when he made eye contact with him, and Jeremy can only imagine how dark his eyebags are, or how much of a mess his hair is, or—

 

“...Damn, Jer, you look like shit,” Michael muses, smiling once again at him through the cold air. Jeremy just snorts in response, going to reach forward for the hoodie, but he's cut off when it's promptly pulled over his head for him. Huh. There's almost a smile on his lips as he clumsily pushes his arms through the sleeves.

 

“Thanks,” he shoots back, shoving his hands into the pocket in the front. “Means a lot,” he tacks on, eyes locked on Michael's. Suddenly, he's wishing he'd just stayed in bed.

 

“You're gonna catch a cold out there, shrimp,” Michael murmurs, going to loop his arms around him and step backwards into the house. Jeremy's ready to protest, really, but as he's pulled flush against Michael's chest, it's hard not to relish in the familiarity of his hug. Damn, he's warm. “It's freezing. Why'd you walk over? I could've come and picked you up. The Cruiser has heat.”

 

Jeremy just shrugs, closing his eyes as he pushes his face into Michael's shoulder. “Don't know,” he decides softly. “Wasn't really thinking about it. It's cool that I came over, though?”

 

Michael nods and laughs, snorting a little as he does. “Dude.” He pulls away from the embrace only to wave a hand dismissively at him, and Jeremy pauses, fingers twitching together in the hoodie pocket. “You're always welcome here. Plus, mom's at work already, and dad's— I dunno, I think he had a meeting. Or he's flying somewhere today. Whatever. Point is, it's just me and you, and even though I totally didn't expect you to even wake up until later doesn't mean you aren't, like, welcome. You always are.”

 

Studying Michael's face as he speaks, Jeremy can only watch as the grin stretches over his face again, playful and genuine in appearance, and Jeremy's stomach flips. He's content with Jeremy here, somehow, and all Jeremy can think about is how badly he needs to sleep, and how terrible he feels, and—

 

“But that's enough about that.” Michael breaks Jeremy out of his trance, and he reaches up to rub at his eyes. He watches Michael's eyebrow lift, then, and he holds his breath as he keeps talking. “What's going on with you, dude? You're acting hella weird. I do something wrong?” The concern suddenly painting itself over Michael's expression is almost too much for him to handle, and Jeremy groans.

 

“No, you're fine. Of course you're fine, Mikey, I'm just… tired, I guess. I couldn't— I didn't sleep very well, that's all.” He shrugs as he speaks, fiddling with his fingers a little bit and hoping that Michael won't completely rip apart the white lie before he can come up with something else.

 

He doesn't.

 

Instead, he just nods in understanding after a second. “I'm sorry, Jer,” he murmurs, going to press the softest kiss to his forehead. “I totally still gotta shower, though. I was gonna do it later, so I wasn't fucking smelly when you showed up, but…” Michael laughs, snorting again and flashing him that grin that usually has Jeremy's stomach doing weird little flips. Today, it just feels off, and Jeremy frowns in response.

 

“You aren't smelly.”

 

“Aw, thanks, Jer-Bear, but I think it's been like a solid two days, so something's telling me I'm not the freshest I could be right now. You good making yourself comfy? Food's in the kitchen, TV remote’s on the coffee table, you know where everything—”

 

“Actually, can I come with?” The silence that follows the statement feels thick and uncomfortable, not at all how things usually are, and Jeremy can't decide if he's the only one with uneasy feelings about it. In fact, he's positive that the words didn't even manage to pass through the pathetic mental filter he's forged for himself. “...Not in the shower. Just— bathroom. I don't want to be alone, I guess.” Hm. Yeah. It feels just as pathetic as it feels, and Jeremy sighs, moving a hand to pull the hood up before he shakes his head. “Sorry, man, it's real stupid. I'll go watch something in the living room, I don't…”

 

“Oh— No, Jer, c’mon, you're totally cool. We've said billions of weirder things. And done, like, trillion more.” He holds his hand out expectantly, and Jeremy sighs, taking hold of it and squeezing it loosely.

 

“If you say so.”

 

Michael just smiles at that, kissing Jeremy's cheek quickly before he nods. “I do,” he reassures him, starting forward to lead him towards the bathroom. “But— Wanna do me a solid and just wait outside while I get in there? That'd be cool,” Michael murmurs, letting go of Jeremy's hand in order to push open the bathroom door. Not a second passes before Jeremy just shoves his hands into his pockets, and he hums softly.

 

“No problem,” he murmurs, going to lean against the wall a little. “Pinky promise. I won't try to sneak a glance, Mikey.”

 

Michael laughs out again, loud and grating, but all too sweet to Jeremy's ears. It makes him smile again, shoulders hunching up almost defensively against the sound as he studies the way Michael's head lifts as he laughs, and the way his eyes wrinkle up. It's been over a decade, and he can't figure out how he landed such a perfect best friend.

 

Granted, he's sure that Michael would argue that the other way, but he'd rather not get into that right now. Instead, he just watches as Michael closes the door behind him, and Jeremy immediately lets his head tap backwards against the doorframe. He can wait for Michael to get undressed. At least, he's pretty sure he can. It's only a moment before his mind starts racing again, however, and the peaceful feeling goes away. In fact, the moment that his head starts screaming at him to leave ties with the moment that he finally hears the stream of the shower start up, and then there's a knock on the door behind his head.

 

“You're set to come in,” is what he hears after that, and his stomach jolts as he turns to open up the bathroom door before he freezes.

 

“Are you sure?” he asks back, fingers twitching against the doorknob.

 

He hears Michael call out ‘Duh’ through the sound of the water, and even then, it's a second before he pushes the door open. He's hit immediately with the feeling of hot steam, and he breathes in slowly as he recalls just how hot Michael likes the water when he showers. He just hums to himself, and he sits down with his back against the bathtub, eyes locked on the floor as he draws his knees up to his chest. With the curtain closed, he knows that there's not any particular privacy boundary broken, but Jeremy can't shove off the feeling that he's imposing. It's hard to. He closes his eyes, a hand coming up carefully to cover his eyes.

 

“Mikey?” he asks softly, picking at the towel beneath him with his free hand. “You're sure it's all good that I'm here this early, right? Because— I can go home, if you need me to. Especially if I woke you up or something.”

 

Even through the steady stream of water, he hears Michael snort, and he can practically see the way he shakes his head. “Dude, it's fine. I love hanging out with you,” is the response he gets, and the tightness that he gets in his chest is almost too much to handle.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Jer, shut up, yes. Always, man! You know that.”

 

 _He knows that._ Right. Jeremy shrugs, eyes flickering between the tiles on the floor. “I know,” he murmurs. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

 

“You get _paranoid_ ,” Michael chirps back. “Nervous is like— nervous is feeling like you're not ready for a chem test. I love hanging out with you all the time, no matter what, Jer, that's that. What the hell’s going on with you today? He's not back, is he?”

 

Aw, man. Jeremy shakes his head quickly, nose wrinkling up. He thinks it's back. Way to go. “No,” he says quickly, leg bouncing a bit. “No, it's not— that’s not it, Michael, I'm okay,” he adds, slinking down a little. “I'm just really tired. I've been—”

 

“Have you been _sleeping_?”

 

Yikes. He breathes in, closing his eyes tighter. “No?” he tries, picking at the towel once again. “It, uh— no. I couldn't last night.” The groan from inside the shower is all too telling of the face that Michael is making, and Jeremy frowns, folding his legs up more. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

 

“Jere _my_ ,” Michael whines out, and judging by the way that the curtain puffs out a little, Jeremy can deduce that he just batted a hand against the inside of it. “You have to sleep! Or, like, at least shoot me a text when you can't! Not— don't wait all night.” It's not often that Michael jumps on him about these things, and Jeremy holds back the rising urge to get on his back about how many sleepless nights that he is too aware Michael has been prone to have. He puffs out a sigh in resignation, shoulders shrugging up.

 

“Sorry,” he repeats, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly. “I didn't want to bother you. You can't blame me for that, Michael, you absolutely can't come for me and my shit brain right now.”

 

“No, I know, I can't, and I'm not, just… God, Jer, I promise I'm your best friend first and your boyfriend second, but I worry about you as both. You aren't gonna save a worried boyfriend by worrying a best friend,” Michael murmurs, and Jeremy curls in on himself more, eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Yeah, and I also wouldn't be saving my insomniatc best boyf by waking him up at the ass crack of dawn, Michael. At least give me that?”

 

There's a heavy silence after that, and Jeremy frowns, gaze flickering around the bathroom before it settles on the fogged over mirror on the back of the door. He drops the hand from his face and leans forward against his knees, squinting into it. He can barely make out his face, but what he can make out is a waving motion from behind him, and Jeremy's stomach almost drops before he turns and notices Michael's hand sticking out of a crack in the curtain. The next thing to come to him is the fact that the water's off, and then:

 

“Towel?”

 

Shit. Jeremy breathes in, reaching to grab for Michael's bathrobe before he squeezes his eyes shut and holds it up to him, fingers tight around the red fabric. He keeps the grip until Michael's fingers graze over his own, and he hears Michael reassure him that he's got it. From there, he lets go, hand coming back to cover his eyes, just in case. It's still quiet, and Jeremy doesn't particularly feel like fixing that, which leads to the only sound to fill the gap being the sound of water dripping from the faucet in the tub. Somehow, that just feels worse.

 

After what feels like a lifetime, Michael reaches a hand down and sort of ruffles his hair. “All clear, Jer,” he murmurs softly, and that's all it takes for Jeremy to open his eyes and stand up, not really bothering to glance back before he starts for Michael's room.

 

Given the fact that he's been around for longer than he can particularly remember, Jeremy's sure that he could navigate the house with his eyes closed. Of course, that's practically what he does as he stares at his feet, pushing into Michael's room first and heading straight for the bed and flopping down onto it unceremoniously, pressing his face into the pillows.

 

Michael follows quickly behind him, and he can only tell by the fact that the door clicks closed after a second. Jeremy remains quiet, eyes closed as he keeps still. Suddenly, the weight of the fact that he stayed up all goddamn night is weighing on him, and his eyelids feel heavier than the world. He's sure that he's about to clock on when Michael speaks up, and Jeremy hears him open his closet.

 

“Sorry for bitching,” Michael muses, shuffling around to get dressed. “I know it's not fair or anything, just… all night? I didn't know you've been having a hard time sleeping. You know you can talk about shit like _that_ with me. I get it.”

 

He does. And Jeremy knows that. His nose wrinkles up a little, sighing before he just hums softly, going to tug a blanket over himself.

 

“I mean, shit, Jer, you used to talk me out of nightmares in _middle school_ , remember? Like— Sleep issues are the one thing I think I actually might be a master of. Next to video games. And beating your ass in Scrabble.”

 

Jeremy sort of laughs in response, little smile tugging at his lips. Leave it to Michael Mell, he guesses. Shifting a little bit, he adjusts the blanket and hums again, drawing it out slowly.

 

“It's just a pain to see you hurt,” Michael says, and it doesn't even occur to him that he sounds closer until the bed shifts beside him, and he feels an arm loop around him tightly. Jeremy relaxes a little bit, expression relaxing as he sort of tugs the pillow closer to himself. “Even if your apparent lack of sleep isn't technically hurting you. Sleep deprivation fucking suuucks, Jeremy.”

 

Although he's quiet for a moment, Jeremy nods slowly, moving back against his hold a little. He's pleasantly met with Michael's hold tightening, and yet he groans anyway, reaching a hand back tentatively to find Michael's. Damn him for being right.

 

Michael just laughs at that, fingers splaying out over the small of his back. “...Don't feel like talking?” he asks softly, lifting his hand to grab ahold of Jeremy's in response. Jeremy relaxes again, huffing before he shrugs, threading their fingers together.

 

“No,” he mumbles into the pillow, swallowing. “Is that a problem?”

 

“Nah, dude, of course not.” Michael shifts and squeezes Jeremy's hand tightly. “Dooo you want me to stop talking?” he asks, running his hand gently against the side of Jeremy's hand.

 

He breathes in sharply before shaking his head and returning the squeeze.  


“Got it.”

 

Michael tugs him a little bit closer before he lets himself fall against the bed, and Jeremy pulls his face from the pillow in order to press it into Michael's shoulder. He gets laugh in response, and Jeremy feels him let go of his hand before there are fingers tangled up in his hair.

 

“Can you even breathe like that?”

 

Jeremy snorts, going to loop his arms tightly around Michael. “Yes,” he mumbles softly, eyes closing again. He's comfortable here, like this. Maybe he should call Michael next time he can't sleep.

 

“If you say so,” Michael whispers back, shaking with laughter, and Jeremy feels his heart jump. He owes him so much, he's sure of it.

 

Before long, Jeremy feels himself dozing off again, Michael holding him close. Silently, he traces a finger against his back in a little heart shape a few times before he grabs onto his shirt a little, and he feels Michael hum.

 

“I love you, too, Jeremy.” It doesn't take much to imagine the smile on Michael's lips, and Jeremy can't help but smile at the thought.

 

“I didn't even _say_ that,” he mumbles sleepily against Michael's shoulder.

 

“You didn't have to.” Michael snorts, and Jeremy feels him trace something slowly against his back. He's quiet for a moment before he laughs.

 

“...Is that a dick?” he asks softly.

 

All he gets in response is a kiss to the top of his head, and Michael's arms tighten around him again. “Go to sleep, dork. I’ll see you in a bit.”

**Author's Note:**

> You: Haley you can't just keep writing dumb fluffy fics with like a weird undertone of hurt but an overarching theme of fluff!  
> Me, doing just that: Hm? What was that? I'm sorry, what?
> 
> I can't help it. I get an idea and run with it, and sometimes those ideas just happen to end with cuddling, because they do, and that's not my god damn fault. Hope you enjoyed!


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